


To Bed Without Supper

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Solar's 007 Fest 2019 [9]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sleep-deprived Q trying to do things, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q could probably iuse a little more sleep but it's fine. Totally fine. He's going to cook Bond the best damn anniversary dinner ever.





	To Bed Without Supper

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9! This one fills "Skip" on the [Random Prompt Table](https://mi6cafe.wordpress.com/007-fest/007-fest-2019-prompt-tables/) and Anon Prompt 6 on the [MI6 Cafe Prompt Exchange](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1LwtIoqppLgPC3D0bJ5HF7ZcIJEnNgGmQcm21977FGJc/edit#gid=628702862): "established relationship: Either Bond or Q cooking dinner for the other, and pathetically failing"
> 
> Basically fluff. As ever, if you see a goof, feel free to lemme know so I can fix it <3

A roast may have been ambitious.

Actually, anything at all may have been ambitious.

Q had wanted to cook a nice anniversary dinner, that was all; it wasn’t often he and Bond happened to be in the same country for holidays or birthdays or relationship milestones, and Q had actually had the day off, which he’d planned to use to surprise Bond with a nice dinner.

Of course, the reason he had the day off was because he’d just worked a gauntlet of a mission with 003 and had been in the office eight days in a row, running on a less than optimal amount of sleep, but it was fine. He was fine.

He’d started the day out with what seemed to be plenty of energy and focus (and two cups of tea and half of Bond’s cup of coffee when Bond had put his mug too near Q’s), and though there had been one or two mishaps—the potatoes were a little saltier than Q had intended to make them, and he hadn’t actually meant to put cayenne in them, but the bottle had been right next to the black pepper and really, a little spice couldn’t be all that bad—on the whole, Q felt it had been going well.

Then he made the mistake of sitting down.

He’d gotten the roast in the oven and had a good hour or so before it had to be checked, and so had settled down on the couch with the intent of catching up on a few recorded shows from the last week, and the next thing he knew, Bond was yelling about something.

That was odd, Q thought muzzily, because Bond wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours yet.

He stood off the couch to stretch, wondering what could have gotten Bond up in arms, when the smell hit him.

“Shit!”

Q bolted around the couch and into the kitchen to find Bond standing over the oven, fanning smoke away while the burnt husk of what would have been dinner sat sadly on the counter beside him.

“I thought we agreed you would keep your experiments at work,” Bond said lightly.

“Fuck,” Q replied, with great feeling.

“I’d say so,” Bond agreed, and Q sighed.

“That was meant to be dinner,” he said, venturing closer to see the pathetic wreck the roast had been reduced to. “I was just sitting down for a bit.”

“How long ago was that?”

Q glanced at the clock and groaned. “Three hours.”

Bond raised his brows, impressed. “I can’t get you to lie down that long for anything.”

Q hummed in vague acknowledgement, thinking things over. They at least still had the veg – except, no, they didn’t, because Q had forgotten to start them entirely. And the potatoes, thinking back on what had been done to them, now with a clearer head, were probably unsalvageable.

The smoke finally having dispersed, Bond came over the wrap his arms around Q’s waist and pull him back into his chest. “Well, are you feeling refreshed from your nap, at least?”

“For all the good it does me.” Q shrugged. “I don’t suppose you’d accept takeaway for an anniversary feast?”

Behind him, Bond stilled. “I thought our anniversary was this weekend,” he said slowly.

Q paused, thinking for a moment. “James, what’s the date?”

“The 18th. And our anniversary is on the 20th, isn’t it?”

After a few moments of mental recalculation, Q began to laugh. He supposed he should have been more concerned that he’d lost two days somewhere along the line, but was in general more relieved that he hadn’t entirely cocked up their anniversary.

He probably went on laughing just a bit too long, as Bond was beginning to look a bit concerned when Q turned to face him, but the look faded when Q tossed his arms around Bond’s neck to finally kiss him hello.

“Got it all out of your system?” Bond asked when they parted.

“I think so.” Q nodded, leaning in for another kiss.

“Good,” Bond murmured. “Then I suggest we skip dinner entirely and get to dessert.”

Q frowned. “I meant to make a caramel sauce to put over ice cream, but I never got to it.”

“Q. I’m not talking about ice cream.”

“Oh… Oh!” The penny dropped, leaving Q momentarily flustered. “Well. Yes, alright. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Quite sure,” Bond promised with a smirk. “Very, very sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr!](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/186168376223/to-bed-without-supper-james-bond-00q-day-9) Come by and say hi if you'd like!


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